Now who the hell does that?
by Lucan
Summary: A .600 revolver. Really? Wow. Just...oh god. Also, if this ends up in anything other than the fallout section, than feel free to yell at me, because that would make me a grade A idiot. Disclaimer: I do not own the Fallout franchise or universe. Thank god.


Now who the hell does that?

Warning: Completely irrelevant to anything. I was bored. Very, very bored. Be warned. And I am a pervert. And I may have been just a wee bit drunk on some champagne I mistook for sparkling cider. So read at your own risk! Also, constructive criticism welcome. Flames are...flames? Yeah I don't know, feel free to flame, but you'll be ignored.

Jake, AKA "The Vault Dweller", crouched behind a couch, half naked, in his cozy Megaton home. He had received the house as a reward for disarming the very much alive bomb. Indeed, he had shat himself upon opening the bomb up. It had taken five excruciating hours, but he had gotten it done. Lucas Simms had been very pleased with him. And occasionally random Megaton settlers would give him much-needed 7.62x39(1) ammo for his Type 170(2). He was living a pretty cozy life, aside from the strenuous treks between the GNR building, Megaton, Super-Duper mart, Vault 101, Rivet City, and the constant threat of death. This was about as comfortable as it got. And so far, none of the Talon mercs or other hit men assigned to kill him had been able to catch him with his pants down. Unfortunately, one had finally succeeded…quite literally. Wadsworth was out walking Dogmeat, and Fawkes was getting acquainted with the locals. He was sure he was having one hell of a time in Moriraity's saloon. And he had been having the best night of his life, until that bastard hit man had walked in. He looked at the other half-naked person in the darkness (Darkness can be very useful. The only reason he wasn't full of sub-sonic10x19(3) rounds right now was because the hit man's first shot had hit the fuse box and blown the lights,) and whispered "What now?" The other person whispered back faintly "Well, I have an idea, but…"

"What? Tell me." The other person sighed softly. "Well, I have a gun…"

"Goddammit! And you didn't tell me this because- oh fuck it just give me the gun," Jake said, raising his voice just a bit too much. The footsteps upstairs stopped. The hit man was listening. Jake winced.

"Wait, there's a catch-"

"Will it kill me?" Jake asked, lowering his voice back to a whisper.

"No."

"Will it kill you?"

"No…"

"Then give it to me!"

Their quiet whisperings ended, and he felt something being slipped into his hand. He searched carefully around the object in his hand with the pointer finger of the other hand, making sure it was a gun. He felt a little bulge on both sides, cylindrical in shape. A revolver. The killer had been upstairs, and was now making his way downstairs again. Jake poked his head up. The killer was soon at the bottom of the stairs. Four steps later and he was in the middle of the room. He was obviously searching, and Jake could make out the outline of his body. He leveled the revolver, aimed, and fired.

The recoil was insane. He had thought it was a .44. He had been dead wrong. The revolver came back and hit him in the face. With an "Oof!" he keeled backwards. Jake squeezed his eyes shut, not only to try and block out the pain, but to wait for bullets to rip through him and his partner. But it never happened. He opened his eyes and peeked over. The revolver had blown through the victim and made a hole in the wall. A beam of moonlight shone through onto what had been the hitman. His head was no more and there was one hell of a mess around him. The moonlight reflected off the blood. His partner was still hiding behind the couch, afraid of what she might see. He ducked back down to join her. "Jesus H. Christ! What the hell is this, Amata?! Is it a present for Fawkes or something? Because it's obviously not meant for humans!" Amata closed her eyes, thinking. "Uhm…Officer Gomez told me it was a .600(4) or something… he told me it was just for show, not really meant to be fired-"

".600? Jesus! Where did Gomez- oh never mind. Anyway, it's a good thing that damn bra of yours took so long to get off, or you might have had your pants off already… wasn't that thing uncomfortable?" The reply he received was filled with sarcasm.

"No, it was more comfortable than a fluffy cloud resting against my hip. What do you think?"

"Well, no need to get all irritable."

"Sorry, but I'm not used to almost being killed- wait, why didn't you notice the gun anyway?" Uh-oh. He was screwed now. (And not in the way he would have preferred.)

"Well, I was more concentrated on your…eh…"

"Hm?"

"Face! Your beautiful face!"

"You sure you didn't mean something a bit lower?"

"…Eh…"

His reply was a giggle, which was followed by a well-aimed slap to his face. Jake laughed a bit, then stood up, pulling Amata to her feet. "Now, where were we?"

"Oh, confound it! Must you be so annoying?" asked Wadsworth as Dogmeat sniffed at a pool of irradiated goo in the middle of the walkway leading up to his Master's house (he always got it confused with that scoundrel Jericho's house. They looked so similar.) Really, he knew he was a servant, but this! Well, at least his master treated him well most of the time. That Fawkes character was around here somewhere, soaking up the amazed stares of the settlers. _If I had a head, I'd be shaking it right now, _thought Wadsworth. He was pulled out of his (artificial) thoughts by the sight of the house. It was dark. And there was a hole in the wall. That hadn't been there when he'd left. Wadsworth rushed ahead. Dogmeat was growling. The dog was certainly good at sensing danger. And killing things. That's why they were back so early. Dogmeat had bitten off the head of some giant ant that had come up on them and now Wadsworth wanted to make sure that he hadn't gotten radiation poisoning of some sort. He knew he was worrying to much, but it would be such a shame if one of the few tame dogs were to die. The sight of the house made Wadsworth forget all that. It was dark, and there was a hole in the wall. That meant trouble. Wadsworth rushed forward, hearing strange sounds as he progressed towards the house. He picked up the pace. Dogmeat beat him to the door, knocking it open when he rushed into it. There was a scream and a shout from inside. Wadsworth rushed in, flamethrower readied and buzz saw spinning. What he found was awkward and odd.

A man in a suit with a silenced 10mm pistol lay close to the table in the middle of the house. Brain matter and blood lay around him, no doubt due to the lack of his head. Clothes lay discarded in two different places on the floor, kind of orderly but kind of…not. And then on the couch was his master with a girl straddling his groin region. Both master and girl were completely naked. They looked frozen in time, save their faces, which were changing between shocked and confused. It was funny. In a sick, twisted kind of way. Jake found his words first. "Wadsworth! Uhm…how…unexpected! And…horribly timed! You could have called on the HAM radio, you know!" said Jake, motioning aggressively with his eyebrows. Oh dear. Master was angry. This could be bad, depending on whether or not Wadsworth could sway things in his favor. Jake was logical, so he should see things Wadsworth's way. Right? "Well, sir, I saw the hole in the wall, and it was so dark, so I assumed…" Jake nodded slightly.

"Fair. But we will…ah…discuss this later. Please go…outside…for five minutes or so."

"Yes sir," replied Wadsworth. He respectfully closed the door behind him. "It takes you five minutes to get dressed?" Amata asked with a raised eyebrow. In response, Jake grinned. "Who said anything about getting dressed?"

Post scripture:

I'll die of cardiac arrest the day I see the Chinese use 5.56x39 NATO in their assault rifles.

Assuming the rifle was made in 2070. Just a guess. Not like the Chinese always number their assault rifles after the year they were made in. Just avoiding brain damage while trying to think up a name.

An assumption, no more, no less. I was just assuming that it would be 10x19, as modern day pistols fire 9x19.

I have no idea if this is possible. In fact, it sounds stupid to me, but I am strangely attached to the idea of a .600 revolver. Also, yes, the revolver was double action.

READ:

The killer closed the door after entering, which is why he took a little longer to take the shot, allowing Jake some time to dive behind the couch with Amata, (As in he dragged her down with him) out of harms way, causing the assassin to hit the fuse box. I haven't actually checked if there is a fuse box, but let's just say there is. Please?


End file.
